


Nightmares

by TempFill



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Night Terrors, Platonic Cuddling, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22167781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempFill/pseuds/TempFill
Summary: Jaskier has a nightmare, Geralt actually cares.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 339





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, this is terrifying. This is my first fanfic ever, and the first time I've written anything in years. I know it's not good, and I know I need the practice! Constructive criticism, tips, and hints are very welcome!! (And if you are looking for a well written story, this isn't it. Just a warning.)

"What do you think, Geralt? That drowner will make for a great story! Pity the farmer wasn't more thankful to have his daughter back." Jaskier rambles as they plod down the dusty road, dusk just starting to settle over the fields around them.

"hmm. Pity." Geralt grumbles from atop Roach.

The young bard gives a sing-song "Oh well!" as he unslings the lute from his shoulders to begin strumming out a tune.

Geralt rolls his eyes at the music and resigns himself to yet another bout of the man's incessant chatter. The town isn't far off, and perhaps he will find some peace at the bottom of his tankard.

Jaskier was met with good cheer at the little inn, as not many bards came through the small town. Geralt was tolerated, only as a companion to the entertainment. Surely he would have been spit at and told to camp outside if he had been alone. Geralt was no stranger to hostile villagers.

Immediately upon entering the inn the scent filled Geralt's sensitive nostrils. Piss and stale beer assaulted his senses. Molded hay seemed to mingle with venison, bread and the stench of sweat. He wrinkled his nose at the offending odor. Sometimes his heightened senses proved more a curse than a blessing.

"Just a few songs, enough to pay for the ale!" and with that the bard was on top of a table, lute in hand.

Geralt settled into a corner with his beer, ready to begin searching for that peace he so longed for.

He sipped quietly and tried not to draw attention to himself. A difficult thing to do, when the first bard these farmers have seen in a month is waxing eloquently on their adventures.

After a few songs Geralt feels too many eyes turned his way. With a wave of his hand he motions the barkeep over.

"two rooms, please." He tries to say in a nonthreatening manner. He notes that she looks nervous, and perhaps he was not as polite as Jaskier is always telling him to be.

The young maid smiles in apology. "Sorry sir, only the one room left. I can have another cot brought up if it would suit you?" She fidgets under the witcher's stony expression, the sharp scent of fear begins to emanate from her.

"Fine" he grunts out.

"Down the hall, last door on the left. I'll have the cot up in just a moment." She breathes out in a sigh relief.

The broad man nodded and turned to find his annoying companion.

Jaskier is seated on the bar, lute in his lap. The young women of the tavern had gathered round as he told his latest stories of adventure and bravery.

"And then I jumped on the hideous beast and drove my dagger down through it's neck, just as it was about to rip our dear witcher from head to toe!"

The poor bard must be delusional. Geralt remembers a very different account where their roles were definitely reversed. Perhaps the young man has had a few too many, or is looking to woo one of the young lasses. Better to warn him of the sleeping arrangement than have him surprised. Not that Jaskier would mind, the bard never seemed to mind sharing a room, now that Geralt thought about it.

"Jaskier"

"Hmm?" the slim man looked up distractedly from the women.

"Im going to bed. Our room is the last door on the left. We leave early in the morning, don't be up too late."

"Right, right! an early morning for another day of adventures! What hideous creatures will we conquer tomorrow? Certainly it will be a full day of rescuing beautiful damsels and slaying the most wretched of monsters!"

The young ladies sighed and batted their eyelashes at the ridiculous man. _If only they knew the truth_, Geralt mused. He grunted and turned away from the bard's grandiose babbling.

The room was quiet when Jaskier entered. Small, yet cozy. A candle flickered on the mantle, sending shadows across the walls. On the far cot he could just make out the shape of the larger man's shoulders, turned away from the meager light. The witcher's breathing was slow and steady, giving the appearance of sleep. Jaskier tried to be stealthy so as not to wake him. He really tried. Unfortunately there is only so graceful one can be after a night of ale and wine.

Jaskier tripped and tangled himself as he tried to strip to his underclothes, catching his hands on the closer bed with a solid whump. His heart shooting into his stomach at the sudden noise. He shook his head to try and clear the cotton from his brain and glanced at the man across the room. Geralt had not moved. _Perhaps he did not notice. Perhaps he is still asleep?_ Jaskier quietly slid into bed, trying to make no noise so as not to disturb the perpetually grumpy man. Nobody really wants a sleep deprived witcher, and Jaskier definitely didn't want to incur the older man's wrath.

He closed his eyes and willed his thoughts to still. Slowing his breath, and pleading with himself for sleep. Eventually his musical brain, full of lyrics and melodies, quieted and slipped into slumber.

When Geralt had entered the room he nearly smiled at the blissful silence. A long sigh escaped him as he stripped the heavy leathers from his body and removed the stiff boots. He rolled his shoulders, easing the tension from his back. Inns and taverns were so noisy, so full of smells. It was almost blissful to have a moment of peace to himself.

Geralt figured he had at least an hour or two before the young bard came traipsing in, and decided to take advantage of the moment to himself. He used the small washbasin and a cloth left on the dresser to clean away the road dust from his weary limbs. The water was cool and soothing, wiping away the stress of his most recent battles. He finished his whore's bath and slipped between the coarse linen sheets on the small cot at the back of the room. Jaskier could have the larger bed, Geralt was just content to not be sleeping on the ground. And he would much prefer the bard to not have to stumble past him on his drunken way to bed.

He stretched under the thin sheet and closed his eyes. Slowing his breathing and heart rate, slipping into a not-quite-sleep kind of rest.

Geralt smelled the Bard before he entered. Ale and wine and women, and Jaskier's own faint scent of juniper and grass. The door creaked on squeaky hinges and the inebriated man slurred a hushed curse at the noise. Geralt listens as the bard closes the door slightly too hard and tries to ready himself for bed. Only inwardly rolling his eyes at the man's alcohol fueled clumsiness. 

The older man hears the bard's heart rate increase, then decrease as he attempts to fall asleep. Listens to his breath steadily slow, and then even out into the steady cadence of sleep.

Geralt's eyes flick open, senses on high alert. _What time is it? How long have I been sleeping? What has woken me?_

The room is dark, candle long since burnt out. He tests the air and listens.

Fear? Anxiety? Jaskier smells of distress.

A quiet whine pierces the silence. Is he dreaming?

The slender man tosses fitfully in his sleep, letting out another soft cry.

"no, no, please stop" he says fretfully, bringing a hand up to shield his face even in sleep.

Geralt lifts his head in concern. The bard must be dreaming. What would disturb him so?

Jaskier lets out a low, pained moan and tosses again.

As much as he would like the world to believe witcher's do not feel, Geralt truly does care. The bard may be infuriatingly annoying but he can't bare to see him hurt. Even like this.

Geralt sighs and slips from his cot to pad softly to the edge of Jaskier's bed.

"Jaskier?" He whispers in a low rasp.

The bard merely tosses again and whimpers.

He settles on the bed next to the slender man, easing his body down close to Jaskier's. Geralt wraps an arm around Jaskier to pull him closer, unable to bare the cries any longer.

Jaskier instinctively curls into the larger man at his touch, resting his head on that expansive chest, never fully waking from his sleep. His body still trembling from the nightmares as Geralt snakes a strong arm around Jaskier's waist, his other hand resting in his hair.

"Shush, Jaskier. It was just a dream." Geralt whispers as he lightly strokes the soft curls, slowly easing the terrors away. The scent of fear begins to fade, leaving only Jaskier's musky scent of beer and juniper.

"Geralt?" Jaskier slurs out the word, tongue heavy with sleep.

"I'm here Jaskier, you were dreaming. Sleep." Geralt rumbles from deep in his chest.

The small man nuzzles against his solid warmth, finally stilling underneath his touch. Geralt leans down and lays a soft kiss on those light brown curls. He's not sure what exactly compels him to do so, but resolves not to dwell on it. 

"mmm" Jaskier hums in his sleep at the larger man's gentle touch.

Geralt settles his head back and idly strokes the bard's arm thrown over his stomach. The company is a little odd, but it does feel nice to have a warm body next to his. _This isn't so bad..._


End file.
